Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN IN THE RECORDS
Two weeks after the arrests began, Beatrice finally believed the nightmare was slowing down.
She was wrong.
The new office of Gallagher Forensic Accounting occupied the seventeenth floor of a renovated building overlooking Bryant Park.
It wasn't large.
Three private offices.
One conference room.
A reception desk Maggie insisted on decorating with a ridiculous gold lamp.
But every inch of it belonged to Beatrice.
There were no executive assistants whispering about her clothes.
No Charles Wilkes waiting outside her office.
No Victoria Lane deciding whether she was worthy of being seen.
No hidden administrator profile attached to her name.
For the first time in ten years, Beatrice opened her laptop in the morning without wondering who might have secretly altered her life overnight.
She had started sleeping better.
She was laughing again.
Her mother visited every Sunday.
Maggie had turned into an unofficial office manager despite having no accounting qualifications whatsoever.
And Dante remained exactly where he had been since the dinner at Bellini's.
Close enough to matter.
Far enough to let Beatrice breathe.
That was why the email bothered her so much.
It arrived at 7:11 on a Tuesday morning.
No subject.
No signature.
Only one attachment.
A scanned document.
Beatrice clicked it.
The page showed a hospital record.
Her own name appeared at the top.
BEATRICE GALLAGHER — PATIENT FILE 1993.
Her pulse slowed.
She opened the second page.
Then the third.
Her mother's name.
Her father's name.
A medical facility she had never heard of.
And one phrase that made her stop breathing.
MATERNAL RECORD — RESTRICTED BY COURT ORDER.
Beatrice stared at the screen.
She read it again.
Then called Kathleen.
Her mother answered immediately.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Mom.”
Something in Beatrice's voice made her mother's tone change.
“What happened?”
“Did I have a birth record at St. Vincent's?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
Another silence.
Then Kathleen said quietly:
“Who told you that?”
Beatrice's stomach dropped.
“Nobody.”
“Beatrice…”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
The answer came like a stone.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Because somebody just sent me the file.”
Her mother stopped breathing for a second.
Then she whispered:
“Don't open anything else.”
“Why?”
“Because that record should not exist.”
Beatrice stood.
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
“The hospital had a fire that year.”
“So?”
“Most of the files were destroyed.”
“Most?”
“Yes.”
“Who saved mine?”
Her mother didn't answer.
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“Mom.”
Finally Kathleen said:
“Your father did.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You do know.”
“I know he was scared.”
“Of what?”
Her mother started crying.
That frightened Beatrice more than anything.
“Mom, tell me.”
Kathleen inhaled slowly.
“You had a twin.”
The room went silent.
Beatrice sat down.
“What?”
“A brother.”
The word was barely audible.
“A twin brother.”
Beatrice stared at the city outside her window.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
“You told me I was an only child.”
“I was told to tell you that.”
“By who?”
Kathleen whispered:
“Your father.”
Beatrice felt dizzy.
She had spent thirty-two years believing she was her parents' only child.
No photographs.
No stories.
Nothing.
Why would her father hide a child?
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don't know.”
“Mom.”
“I swear.”
Her mother cried harder.
“I only knew that Patrick was frightened.”
“Why?”
“Because the people he discovered in those financial records weren't ordinary criminals.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
She thought of Dante.
The Moretti empire.
Arthur Wilkes.
Marianne Vale.
The old photograph.
The phrase written on the back:
THE NIGHT WE FOUND IT.
Suddenly the pieces looked different.
Maybe the accounting conspiracy hadn't started with the Moretti accounts.
Maybe it had started with her father's investigation.
Maybe her father hadn't simply discovered money laundering.
Maybe he had discovered a network that had been hiding people.
People like her brother.
She opened the hospital record again.
A second line caught her eye.
INFANT TRANSFER AUTHORIZED — PRIVATE FAMILY INSTRUCTION.
No name.
No destination.
Just a transfer code.
Beatrice copied it.
Then sent it to Dante.
His reply came within thirty seconds.
Don't move. I'm coming.
Maggie walked into the office carrying coffee.
She stopped when she saw Beatrice's face.
“What happened?”
Beatrice turned the laptop toward her.
Maggie read the page.
Her expression changed.
“That's not your file.”
“Apparently it is.”
“There are two birth records.”
“I had a twin.”
Maggie stared.
“You had a twin?”
“Apparently.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don't know.”
Maggie looked at the screen again.
“Why would your mother hide this?”
“I think my father forced her.”
“Why?”
“That's what I want to know.”
The front door opened.
Dante entered.
He wasn't wearing a suit.
Dark coat.
Black shirt.
No tie.
His face was serious.
He walked directly to Beatrice.
“What did they send you?”
She handed him the file.
He read it.
Then went completely still.
“You recognize something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He touched the transfer code.
“That code belongs to a private medical network.”
“Which one?”
“My father's.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“Your father?”
“Lorenzo Moretti maintained several private clinics for injured employees and associates.”
“Why would my brother be there?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
Dante nodded.
He began making calls.
Twenty minutes later, Luca contacted them.
“We found the transfer.”
Dante put the phone on speaker.
Luca continued.
“The newborn wasn't transferred to a clinic.”
“Then where?”
“A private family estate.”
“Whose?”
Luca hesitated.
“Moretti.”
Beatrice's stomach dropped.
“Which estate?”
“Old Moretti property in Connecticut.”
“Is it still there?”
“Yes.”
“Abandoned?”
“No.”
“Who owns it?”
Luca answered:
“Dante.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“You own the place where my brother was taken?”
“I didn't know.”
“Why didn't you know?”
“Because I inherited forty-three properties after my father's death.”
“And never inspected them?”
“Some.”
“The one connected to my family?”
“No.”
Beatrice stared at him.
Neither spoke.
Then Dante said:
“Someone wanted your brother hidden.”
“Why?”
May you like
He looked at the birth record.
“I think we're about to find out.”
